Little Blessings
by LadyScot
Summary: The Scot is a new father. Kinley MacGregor's Brotherhood of the Sword universe. Mild language. The ScotxOFC.


Sherrilyn/Kinley owns all canon characters. The other's belong to me.

LITTLE BLESSINGS

The room had finally fallen into silence. The hustle and bustle of the past several hours was now over, and Duncan was ready to drop. He had not felt this drained in years. Neither fighting, running or hiding had ever made him feel the extreme exhaustion that now had him in it's grip.

And his ears. Damn but they were still ringing. The yelling, the screaming, and Lord the cussing that woman did. He had never experienced the like. And what an ironic twist to have the quiet, soft spoken lady he knew turn into a banshee at the first sign of pain.

Well, honestly, he couldn't really blame her. It did look excruciating. How the hell had it been possible? Women were amazing creatures. Able to carry life within their bodies, nurturing and sustaining. Then, to bring that life into the world with as much grace and dignity as she did.

Well, that's what he would tell her anyway. He was nothing if not intelligent. No man worth his salt would ever tell his wife that she looked like a fishwife in the throes of childbirth. And he certainly knew better than to tell her she was anything but ladylike in her delivery. No. He would leave off complimenting her on her choices of swear words, and the strength of her right hook. He would come up with an explanation for his black eye. Maybe he could cover it like his other one and she would never notice. What did it matter that he wouldn't be able to see?

Glancing at the bed where his wife now slept, Duncan quietly made his way over to her. Looking at her face in the soft glow of the candlelight, he thought about what an amazing woman she was. The birth had been hard on her. The hours of laboring had taken their toll on her tiny body. It was good that she now rested comfortably.

In her arms lay their newborn son. Soft, downy black hair covered his head. His tiny fingers between his lips as he suckled. The slight smacking sounds filled the room. Duncan felt a rare smile form upon his mouth.

He gently picked up his son, being careful not to disturb his wife. Holding the babe close, he inhaled the fragrance of brand new life. Duncan sat on the edge of the bed, and marveled at the child in his arms. Such a feeling of wonder filled him. He had never felt so complete in his life. That such a small thing could cause such protectiveness and love to fill him nearly took his breath away.

The years of loneliness and pain faded away to contentment. All the running, and hiding, and never belonging had finally been worth the effort took him to survive. Never would he allow anyone to take this from him.

The babe stirred slightly as he ran his hand over the small head. Duncan lightly traced the path of the small ears, down the babe's neck, to his arm, and finally caressed the tiny fingers. His breath hitched as his son wrapped his fingers around his larger on. That one moment sealed his fate. The Scot had become a father, and heaven help any man who threatened this child.

"Duncan." His wife whispered softly. He looked up at her smiling face. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and a slight blush marred her cheeks. The sight of her husband holding their son filled her with such pride. This man, this tough, aggressive, and often angry man had been changed. She could see it in his face.

He gave her a small smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Sore." Her face light up with a bit of mischief. "How soon will you have him on the training field?"

Duncan laughed. She complained constantly of the long hours of training he doled out to the men that lived in the fortress. While she thought the survivors of the Saracen prisons needed rest and recuperation, her husband insisted they needed to remember the men they were before their capture. And fighting warriors needed to fight to become themselves again. Sparring also helped them to expend their anger and frustration in a controlled setting to prevent them from eventually taking it out on their families when they were finally ready to re-enter their worlds.

"No. No training for awhile yet. He will have some play before he wields a sword." Glancing at his son, then back at the child's mother, Duncan spoke softly. Words from the heart were not easy from him. But these she deserves these. "Thank you, love. Thank you for my son."

He leaned back on the bed, careful not to wake their child, and took one of her small hands into his. He brought it to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss upon her fingers. The gesture never failed to move her, as it was so unlike him. He looked into her eyes. "You give so much of yourself, and get so little in return. I know this life has not been easy for you. Being with me has not been easy. I know this. And that you continue to care for me…"

"Shh." She replied, placing her fingers on his lips to silence him. Her poor Duncan. He felt so undeserving of love. But love him she did, and told him so often. "You are who you are love. I knew that when I fell in love with you. You are not an easy man to love, but I do love you Duncan. You are my husband, and now the father of our son. Just look at him! Look at what we made together. You deserve this family, and all the love that comes with it."

She kissed him softly, and rested her forehead against his. Lord, how this man moved her! His temper, his lack of confidence in matters of the heart, all the things that made him the man she loved, just continued to make her desperate to show him how much he did deserve love. She knew all his secrets. All of the years of being denied his father's name. His learning of his brothers, and the loss of Kieran, his closest confidant and brother.

The years he spent in prison, a captive of the Saracens. His escape and the forming of the Brotherhood of the Sword. And the reason for the fortress in which they lived. The hours he spent sheltering and training the men. The care provided for the healing of the freed prisoners. All of these things she knew, and made her love him all the more.

"You are the most amazing man I have ever known. You have given so much of yourself to so many people. You have shed your blood Duncan. For men you didn't even know to prevent their suffering for a moment in time. You have shed your tears for the ones you couldn't shield. You are one man, and yet you have done so much! The people who come to you, to us, are broken, beaten and abused. And we help them. They are fed, counseled and fed. And when they are ready to return to their lives, we rejoice in their healing.

You have lost much husband. Your eye. You have scars on your face and back. Scars inside you that even I can't touch. But you have survived! You are here, with me and our son. You have a family Duncan. A fortress of people who love you and respect you. People you have sheltered and protected who would fight for you at a moment's notice. You deserve all the love that you receive. And we are all happy to give it to you. Don't ever think there is anywhere I would rather be! You are mine Duncan. You belong to me and our son."

Her fervent speech ended with her face wet with tears, and her voice trembling. Her arms wrapped tightly around him. Her movements jostled their child, waking him. At the sound of the babe's cries, she released her husband and giggled, sniffling. "I have woken our son."

Duncan laughed. His face was wet as well with tears he hadn't realized he shed. She reached up and wiped them away with her fingertips. "I better take him and feed him" she replied, holding out her arms.

Duncan placed the child in his mother's arms, and watched as she released her breast for their child's dinner. As the child latched on to her nipple, Duncan watched, fascinated at the feeding process between mother and child. Oh, he knew the mechanics of what was done. But he had never before witnessed such a private and scared act. His heart swelled with emotion at watching his son take nourishment from his wife.

He settled beside her on the bed, and placed one hand on his child's head, and with the other, took her hand, holding it gently. Duncan raised her hand once more to his lips. This was his wife. The mother of his son. His reason for living. She truly had saved him from himself.

"What shall we name him?" he asked, looking at her with a soft smile.

His wife lovingly smiled at their child, and back to her husband. She knew the perfect name, and hoped he would agree.

"Kieran. Keiran MacAllister Scot. After your brother. Scot because that is who you are. The Scot. What do you think?"

Duncan thought for a moment. It was a strong name. And the man whom the child would be named for would always be honored, and remembered.

"It is perfect. The Scot family. You have chosen well wife." Duncan took a moment to revel in his family. He was content for the first time in his life. And for the first time, he did not feel the anger and fear that had simmered below the surface of his being for so long. For the first time, all was right in the world.

He drew his family into his arms, and quietly observed them. Then spoke the words that had before seemed so foreign and hard to utter, though he felt them every moment.

"I love you wife."


End file.
